Dry Spell
by Gmariam
Summary: In which the Torchwood team struggle with a dry spell of alien origin.


Dry Spell (A Torchwood Emergency)

Ianto slumped at his computer, staring at the screen but seeing nothing. His mind was too wooly and unfocused. He was tired—a late night of Weevil hunting often did that—but it felt like more than chasing aliens. Something was off, had been for days, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

Glancing at Jack's office, he saw Jack sitting in a similar position—chin propped up on his hand as he stared off into space, eyes glazed over. Had they really been out so late that they were both zombies the next day? Ianto went over the night in his head: takeaway Chinese for dinner, a movie at his flat, late night call for a Weevil on the docks. Fairly standard for Torchwood. It'd only been midnight when they'd decided to crash at the Hub, and as they'd gone right to sleep and got up at eight (it was Saturday), Ianto wondered why he was so tired.

He thought back to the past week: business as usual at Torchwood with three people doing the job of five, though not as bad as it could be. Some long days and late nights, yes, but also some slow days, and he and Jack had spent a lot of time together on the quiet nights. They'd gone to a jazz club one night, slept in the last two weekends, cooked dinner, and watched a lot of movies.

Ianto wondered if he was sick, if the lethargic feeling of complacency was due to a virus of some sort. Or maybe he'd tangled with some alien tech that was dulling his mind. Maybe it was the calm before the storm: the world was about to go to hell in a handbasket, and the universe was letting him build up his energy to fight the good fight when it finally came.

The cog door opened then, the alarms startling Ianto so much he slipped off his chair. From the corner of his eye he saw Jack jerk as well, then go furtively back to whatever paperwork he'd been ignoring on his desk. Ianto turned to find Gwen practically storming into the Hub, wearing the "I've got something to talk about" look of determination on her face that always sent everyone running. Ianto stood quickly and moved toward the coffee maker, hoping she'd walk straight into Jack's office and take it out on him, whatever it was.

"'Morning," he called over his shoulder, not wanting to appear rude but hoping to avoid the storm. Unfortunately, she followed him instead of going right to Jack; he felt the cloud descend on the kitchenette.

"Ianto," she said, then stopped and smiled. It seemed forced, as if she were making herself slow down and at least attempt the normal pleasantries involved in greeting a coworker before she accosted him. "Good morning. How are you?"

He shrugged. "Same as usual, bit more tired this morning, but then that's normal, isn't it?" He started the coffee and waited. She had something to say and nothing ever stopped Gwen Cooper from saying it.

To his surprise, she seemed somewhat hesitant and was silent for a moment. He half hoped he was out of the woods. "Ianto?" she asked, lowering her voice as if she didn't want anyone else to hear. Not that Jack could hear them in his office, and Myfanwy didn't care. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course," he answered, bracing himself.

"It's a personal question," she added.

"I'll do my best, then," he replied with a smile, mentally denying any such thing.

She nodded and took a deep breath. "I think something might be going on…around here…with us…I'm not sure but…well, when was the last time you had sex?" The last sentence came out in a rush. Ianto turned to her in surprise.

"Excuse me?" he asked, not sure he had heard her correctly. While a bit of teasing about his and Jack's extracurricular activities was normal, she'd never outright asked about their sex life before. At least, not about the numbers; new ideas, yes, but nothing more.

Gwen glanced over her shoulder at Jack's office and leaned closer. "When was the last time you had sex?" she repeated. "With Jack, or…well, anyone."

Ianto's eyes about flew off his forehead; as if he'd been with anyone else. As if he had the time, working for Torchwood and sleeping with his boss. And honestly, he had no desire to sleep with anyone else. He preferred monogamy and liked sleeping with Jack, time constraints aside. He and Jack had eventually talked about it, after months of hedging around the topic, and Jack had confessed he wasn't interested in anything else either. Which had been such an unexpected relief that they'd stayed in bed for almost twenty-four hours straight exploring their unexpected connection with some exceptionally inventive techniques.

But now…Ianto struggled to remember the last time he and Jack had actually had sex. Slept together, yes. Been naked, yes. Even a quick shower together, yes. But they'd gone right to sleep after the Weevil hunt the previous night. They'd been doing an awful lot of cooking and laying around otherwise. They'd not even shagged after their date at the jazz club, or that close call with the Hoix, or the night they'd all gone out for that retrieval in the wetlands and ended up covered in mud. He remembered starting that particular day off right, so to speak, but it been two weeks since then.

Two weeks.

Ianto cleared his throat, suddenly embarrassed. He hadn't had sex for two weeks. And when he thought about it, Jack hadn't asked, not once. Was he no longer interested? Was he finding other avenues of release? Then again, he'd been spending most of his time with Ianto, so Ianto wasn't sure when Jack would have had a chance to bed other partners. He set aside the thought to deal with later. First coffee, then Gwen, then existential crisis.

He poured her a cup of coffee and handed it to her with a shrug. "Not that long, I suppose. Tired, busy, all that." It sounded incredibly lame even to his ears, but Gwen looked concerned, not skeptical.

"How long?" she pressed. "A few days, a few weeks?"

"May I ask why you're so curious?" Ianto returned, moving away and back toward his computer. "I know we're not big on boundaries around here, but this might be one to stick to."

Gwen followed him and leaned against his desk as she sipped her coffee. "I'm sorry, it's just that…well, Rhys said something this morning that got me wondering."

Ianto leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. "Rhys was asking about my sex life?" he asked curiously. "And we all thought he was straight as an arrow."

Gwen slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "No, he wasn't, and yes, he is." She took another sip, looking down at her feet and scuffing her toe. "No, he said something about me, about us. It's…well, it's been a while."

Ianto shook his head in confusion. "A while?" he asked, then remembered her initial question. "Oh, it's been a while. I see. Well, er…what does that have to do with me?"

"It's been two weeks for us," she said, her voice low. "That's not normal! And I know he was only joking, but Rhys said something about how maybe Torchwood had done something to me, that it had been so long."

"Two weeks isn't really that long," Ianto pointed out. It was for him, but he was sleeping with an exceptionally libidinous immortal from the 51st century.

"No, I suppose not," said Gwen. "But there's nothing wrong, you know? No one's sick or injured or out of town…there's no reason. It's been two weeks, and nothing."

"And you think it has something to do with Torchwood?" Ianto hated that a part of his brain wanted to agree. It wasn't normal for him and Jack either—and worse that he hadn't noticed.

"Could it?" she asked, sounding like she too wanted an alien explanation. "I mean, I haven't even thought about it. Rhys said he's tried it on, only I'm never interested." She seemed genuinely distressed now. "I've never been not interested before, not like this, anyway. Which was when he suggested a Torchwood thing."

Ianto scrubbed at his face as if he could wipe away the awkward discomfort. "I don't know what to say, Gwen. Other than it's Torchwood, so anything's possible, I suppose."

"Have you noticed anything?" she asked, lowering her voice so much he had to lean forward to hear her. "Are you and Jack still…" She trailed off, the look on her face implying the rest.

"I suppose so," Ianto answered. "I mean, we've been going out and having dinner and spending the night at my place a lot, but…" He shrugged again. "It's been a while," he finished, repeating himself.

"You said that," she pointed out. "How long?" He thought about lying as she continued. "It's been at least a week since I've walked in on you two going at it, maybe longer."

He struggled with his answer, but decided he may as well be honest in case there was actually something going on. "Probably about two weeks. Same as you."

She frowned. "That can't be a coincidence," she said.

"What can't?" asked Jack, appearing suddenly behind them, hands tucked into his pockets. "Got something for us, Gwen?"

Gwen's eyes were as wide as saucers as she looked to Ianto for rescue. He shrugged yet again and took a sip of coffee. She'd brought it up with him, so she could bring it up with Jack.

"Go on," said Jack, leaning against a nearby desk. "Fill me in. What's not a coincidence?"

Now her mouth was making goldfish motions. Ianto couldn't help but step in, curious how much she'd confess to Jack. "Rhys was wondering if Torchwood might be having a negative effect on, er, personal things. Personal _physical_ things."

Jack raised his eyebrows and turned toward Gwen, who was staring daggers at Ianto. "Is Rhys petitioning to join the team, then? What's he think is going on, physically?"

Gwen chewed her lip and glanced at Ianto with a look that was clearly unrepentant. He shook his head, knowing what she was going to say, but he'd opened the door, so he could only blame himself.

"Sorry Ianto," she murmured, and maybe she meant it. She turned to Jack, suddenly businesslike. "When was the last time you had sex, Jack?"

"Beg your pardon?" Jack asked. "Rhys is asking about our sex lives?"

"No," Gwen said, "I am. Can you remember?"

Jack crossed his arms over chest and smirked. "Last night," he said. "Downstairs."

"Not with me," Ianto murmured, glancing up at the ceiling and wishing the floor could swallow him.

"Sure we did," said Jack.

"Seeing as I was downstairs with you the entire night, you'd think I'd remember. Especially if there were something else involved."

"But we…after we got that Weevil…didn't we…" Jack trailed off as Ianto shook his head. Jack frowned.

"But we always do after a Weevil Hunt. It's practically tradition—"

"Stop," said Gwen. "I don't need to know any more about your traditions. If you didn't last night, when was the last time?"

"Well…" Jack looked thoughtful. "After the jazz club?" he asked. Ianto shook his head. "After that Hoix? Close calls always do it."

"Nope."

"What about after we got all muddy out in the wetlands? I like getting dirty," he said with a wag of his eyebrows. "Surely, we had a nice, hot shower?"

Ianto studiously avoided Gwen's eyes. "Yes, that morning, before we came in to work," he said. "But that's the last I recall."

"So, you're telling me we haven't had sex since then?" Jack asked, his voice going up in panic. "That was almost two weeks ago!"

"I haven't had sex," Ianto replied with an emphasis on the pronoun. Jack gave him an annoyed look.

"Neither have I," he said pointedly.

"And neither have I." Gwen stepped in before it got out of hand. "Don't you think that's odd, that none of us have sex for two weeks?"

"And that it took Rhys Williams to point it out?" Ianto murmured. Gwen slapped him on the arm again; he'd have a bruise soon if he didn't watch his mouth.

"You think something happened to us that—what?" Jack asked. "Made us not want to have sex? Isn't that stretching it, even for Torchwood?"

"Why?" asked Gwen. "We've encountered things that make us more aroused."

"Sex gas," Ianto murmured.

"Exactly," Gwen said. "Why not something that does the opposite? I haven't even thought about it in two weeks. I wouldn't have noticed if Rhys hadn't said something!"

Jack stared at her. "You're right," he said, his voice incredulous. "I don't know when I'd have realized it either."

"But what would cause it?" Gwen asked. "And how do we reverse it?"

"A little romance with a side of oysters?" Ianto suggested, turning toward his computer to start a database search. The other two were silent behind him, and he turned to find them both frowning at him. "I was kidding," he offered. "I didn't mean—"

Jack waved him off. "It's not that, though I can show you plenty of romance if that's what you want. But the thought of you and oysters right now did nothing for me."

"And usually they do?" Ianto asked skeptically. "I didn't realize you had a shellfish fetish on top of everything else."

"I don't," Jack replied, still ignoring Ianto's dry attempts at deflection. "But normally the thought of you sucking out an oyster and running your tongue around it would get me hot and bothered. Right now, nothing. It just sounds messy." He looked genuinely upset, though whether it was about the lack of a sexual reaction to Ianto eating oysters or the mess they left behind, Ianto wasn't sure.

Gwen cleared her throat to get their attention "Have either of you, you know…" She made a motion with her fist, the implication obvious. "In the last two weeks?"

Ianto thought about it. Nope, not a single solo mission. It simply hadn't occurred to him. He shook his head. Jack did as well, at which point Ianto was convinced that something was definitely wrong with them all.

"You?" asked Jack. The lack of his usual leer was both disappointing and disturbing.

"Not once," Gwen said. "Have you watched any porn?"

"I do not—" Jack started. Gwen stopped him with a look. "Fine, I do, but no, not recently that I can remember." They both turned to look at Ianto, who couldn't help but slide back in his chair from the intense onslaught.

"Don't look at me, I prefer to read the occasional bit of erotica." Jack snorted, and Ianto narrowed his eyes at him. "Fine, with the sporadic accompanying visual, yes. But not lately." He'd been reading a particularly smutty novel during his free time, but he couldn't even remember where it was now.

"So, something has turned us off instead of on," Jack stated. "I don't like this. It's not right. I want to have sex again." He paused, looking both sad and confused. "Well, I want to want to have sex."

"What do we do?" Gwen sounded both desperate and determined. Ianto inclined his head toward his computer.

"I'm running a database search for any similar cases," he told them. "But in the meantime, do we think it's biological, chemical, technical?"

"Technical?" asked Jack, grinning. "Like a technical malfunction of our—"

"Alien technology," Ianto interrupted, trying very hard not to stick out his tongue. "We come across all sorts of little trinkets from the Rift that have some rather colorful effects, after all. It's worth considering given the amount of tech we handle every week."

"Like you said, we're always bringing something in," Jack said. "Half of which is unidentified. It could be anything."

"Hang on, we all said it's been about two weeks, right?" asked Gwen. When they nodded, she continued. "What happened two weeks ago? Ianto, can you pull up our records for that time?"

"Right." Why hadn't he thought of that? He turned to another monitor and pulled up some files. "Last I remember…you know…was the morning before we all ended up soaking wet in the wetlands." He pulled up the file. "All we found that day was a metal disc stuck in the mud." The picture showed them the gold disc, hollow in the center, like something used in a sporting competition, with unidentified and clearly alien markings along the edge.

"And we really didn't have sex at all after that?" Jack asked, leaning over Ianto's shoulder to read through the files. Ianto gave him a disparaging look.

"You don't remember?" he asked dryly.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Just answer the question," he said. "So we can figure this out and get back to horizontal."

Ianto shook his head. "I think we went back to mine that night, watched Top Gear, and went to bed."

"Same here," said Gwen. "It was the series opener. Rhys loved that Ferrari they reviewed."

"I'd take the Jaguar any day," said Ianto. "Hell of a race, too."

"I don't know, I could see you on the motorbike," Gwen said.

"Not really my—"

"Transportation preferences aside, that disc could be affecting our sex lives, so let's focus, shall we?" Jack interrupted. "Where is it?"

"In the archives under D," Ianto replied. "I couldn't come up with anything more interesting."

"Let's bring it up and run some tests," Jack said, stepping back.

"We did," Ianto offered, pointing at the screen. "Standard run-through didn't pick up anything useful."

"Then we'll run more," Jack replied. "There has to be something that will not only explain this, but reverse it."

"Unless it's broken," Gwen said after a moment. "And we all stay like this forever."

Ianto was fairly certain Jack's face went pale. He swallowed and shook his head. "Not a chance. Ianto, grab the disc and bring it up. Gwen, get something ready so we can test it. I'll be in my office…er, looking into some other things. Research."

He turned and hurried toward his office. Ianto watched him before turning to Gwen.

"He's going to…" She made the hand motion again. Ianto nodded.

"Probably. I think I should check on him first, see if I can't help him up. Out." He stood and hurried away. "I mean out. With whatever he's tugging—sorry, trying. Research and all that."

He ignored the giggle behind him; this was too serious to be embarrassed about.

* * *

Twenty frustrating minutes later Ianto left the office for the archives. He straightened his jacket and fixed his hair and tried not to swear under his breath. Usually time spent with Jack in his bunker was far more pleasurable and productive, but it seemed whatever had happened to them had affected them severely. He'd never been less interested, less turned on, and less effective than he had for the last twenty minutes, and he suspected Jack was close to tears over his own lack of performance.

He thought he heard Gwen swearing nearby—in the loo, maybe—and wondered if she was having the same problem. Lucky Rhys wasn't there to experience the frustration as well.

Hurrying to the archives, he found the disc they'd picked up in the Cardiff Bay Wetland Reserves two weeks earlier and brought it back upstairs. Jack and Gwen were sitting on the sofa, each nursing a glass of scotch. Ianto raised an eyebrow as Jack poured him one as well.

"And this is supposed to help us—how?" he asked. He took a sip; it was good.

"Take our minds off our troubles," Jack said. "I'd Retcon the last half hour if I could."

Gwen gave Ianto a sympathetic look "That bad?" she asked. He sat down in the chair next to Jack.

"Definitely not an experience I want to repeat," Ianto replied. "I found the disc, so let's figure this out. Then maybe we can replace the bad with some good?"

Jack knocked back his drink. "Absolutely. Two weeks' worth of sex coming up as soon as possible."

"Hope there's enough—" Ianto coughed. "Never mind. Let's go."

They gathered around Tosh's former work station. Ianto started by running the same tests when they'd first brought it in—basic energy readings (not radioactive), biological readings (not alive), chemical composition tests (not poisonous). Ianto turned toward Jack.

"Not that I thought it was poisoning us to ignore sex," he said. "But these readings aren't showing anything that might be killing the mood. Any ideas?"

"Well, could it be hormonal?" Gwen asked. Ianto stared at her, along with Jack. She rolled her eyes. "You do know hormones influence sex drive, yeah? Maybe it's mucking with our hormones somehow."

"How?" asked Ianto, waving his hand in frustration at the object. "It's not doing anything. It may as well be from some alien Olympic event."

"It's not doing anything that we can see," Jack pointed out. "Or maybe it did when we picked it up. Come on, blood tests all around!"

"You know how to test for hormone levels?" Ianto asked, exchanging a skeptical look with Gwen.

"No, I'm going to call Martha and she's going to walk me through it," Jack replied with grim determination.

"Please don't tell her why," Gwen murmured. Jack gave her a crooked grin.

"Why not? We're all family. Maybe she'll send you a UNIT cap for Rhys to spice things up when we're all back to normal," he said.

Gwen's eyes went wide for a second before a giggle escaped. "Ianto Jones, you surprise me."

"Who said anything about it being mine?" Ianto asked, trying for indignant and probably failing. Of course it was his, but Gwen didn't need to know that.

"Isn't red your color?" Gwen asked with a knowing smile. "And UNIT caps were red last time I checked."

"The deductive powers of a former copper," Ianto murmured. Gwen leaned closer.

"Do you think Rhys would wear —"

"Later, kids!" Jack called from the medical bay. "Time to play doctor!"

Ianto smirked. "That's a good one too."

* * *

Two hours (and many bouts of sympathetic laughter from Martha) later, Jack had managed to run enough basic hormone tests on their blood draws to determine that no, hormones were not the issue.

"Is it only in the Hub?" Martha asked over the speakerphone on Jack's mobile, laid out on the table in front of the sofa next to the disc. "Do you feel more…normal when you leave?"

"I've slept in my own bed every night," Gwen replied. "And only sleep, nothing else."

"Ianto?" Martha asked. "Have you been back to your flat?"

"Of course," he replied. "I'm not the one who lives here. I have a perfectly respectable home to return to." He paused. "In which I did not have sex a single time."

"So it's not confined to the Hub," she said. "Did you run a check, anyway? For anything in the air?"

Ianto walked over to a computer and started the program. "Regular sensors would have picked something up if it was there. I'll run it again."

"But it affects us at home," Jack pointed out.

"Better safe than sorry," said Martha. "It could be something you inhale in the Hub that stays with you once you leave."

"Oh," said Ianto. "You mean like pheromones?"

"Possibly," said Martha. "Can you scan for them?"

"I thought pheromones made you want to have sex," Gwen said. "Like with—"

"Sex gas." Ianto held back a snort, but Martha laughed.

"Sex gas?" she asked. "You have all the fun there, don't you?"

"Gwen's first case," Jack drawled. "Gaseous alien that channeled orgasmic energy. The orgasm was so good the guys exploded into dust."

"And the alien used pheromones to attract its prey," said Ianto. "Which Gwen can attest to. Lucky we found her in time."

That earned him a fierce glare from Gwen, but the wink from Jack was worth it.

"I haven't heard of pheromones turning off sexual attraction or desire," Martha said when she'd stopped laughing again. "Of course, we're not even sure they exist in humans."

"They do," Jack and Ianto said in unison, then exchanged a grin. Gwen pretended to gag.

"Martha, could pheromones do that? Turn off sexual desire instead of turning it on?"

"It'd be something our science hasn't encountered before," Martha said. "But I've seen enough to know better. Anything's possible!"

"Doesn't matter, I'm not picking up anything unusual in the Hub," Ianto said. "So not that. And the scan I ran of our data files didn't find anything either."

Jack appeared to have a sudden idea and leaned forward, punch several buttons on his wrist strap. "I'm reading some infrasonic waves," he said. "Now we're getting somewhere. Martha, know anything about sonic devices?"

"Only sonic screwdrivers," she replied. "But I know there's more to life than sonic screwdrivers."

"Could a sonic signal dampen sexual desires?" Jack asked.

"Maybe," Martha said, sounding unsure. "That still wouldn't explain why you feel the effects when you're at home away from the device. Any psychic fields?" she asked suddenly. "Maybe the sonic vibrations are producing a psychic field that's connected to you even when you're away from the source." Ianto ran a check for whatever their instruments were calibrated to search for when it came to psychic fields; it beeped loudly at him.

"We're picking up something, yes," he said. "Though I'm not quite sure what I'm looking at."

"That has to be it. I need a brain scan," Martha said, sounding excited. Ianto volunteered Gwen, who vowed to pay him back, and sent the results to Martha. They had another drink while they waited.

"I definitely think there's some psychic element at play here," she said, and offered a lengthy explanation of alpha waves, theta waves, optimal frequencies, and the limbic system. Gwen finally cut her off with a roll of her eyes.

"So you think we're being psychically tortured into not wanting sex?" Gwen summarized.

"It sounds crazy, but that's my best guess with the evidence at hand," Martha replied.

"Why would someone invent a psychic disc that stops you having a shag?" Ianto asked. "Seems like cruel and unusual punishment in any part of the galaxy."

"Oh," said Jack, sitting up straighter from where he'd been slouching on the sofa. "That's it! Punishment!"

"Come again?" asked Martha.

"I wish," Ianto muttered, earning a giggle from Gwen.

"That's what's going on. Punishment," Jack said. He leaned forward to pick up the disk and examine it. "I think I know what this is now."

"Do you mean punishment, like for sex offenders?" asked Gwen. Jack shook his head.

"No, I mean punishment for naughty little boys and girls." He grinned. "It's a kink toy, like a cock ring, but for your whole body. A way to delay sexual pleasure."

"We're not delaying it, we've been denied the very idea of it," Ianto pointed out. "Who the hell would invent such a thing?"

"There was this race, I don't remember what they were even called, but they were extremely hypersexual. Like, really, really into it," he added, sounding impressed.

"They invented this to keep themselves in check?" Gwen asked skeptically.

"No, they invented it as a way to heighten their pleasure—you know, delayed gratification. Apparently they had so much sex it was getting mundane, boring. If they turned it off for a while, it was even better when it came back on." Jack shrugged. "I never used one before, never even met the species."

"There's a first," Ianto murmured.

"Heard about it, though," Jack said, ignoring him. "It was supposed to be pretty intense."

"Dubious sexual practices aside, can we reverse the effect?" asked Ianto.

"I don't know, since I don't know how to work it," Jack admitted. "Martha, do you think destroying it will stop the sonic transmission and break the psychic field?"

"I don't know, Jack," she replied. "It would certainly stop emitting a signal, the question is whether the psychic effect is permanent."

"Why would it be permanent?" asked Ianto. "If it's supposed to suppress sexual desire while it's on, turning it off should allow it to return, right? Like taking off a cock ring," he added. Jack sighed.

"I can't wait to take off the cock ring," he said.

"You and me both," said Gwen. "Martha, do you think it would work, if we destroyed it?"

"It sounds like it," said Martha. "I suppose it's a question of whether or not you're all desperate enough to take the chance."

"Yes," Ianto and Gwen answered together, while Jack nodded in agreement.

"If it's what I think it is, there shouldn't be any permanent effect," said Jack. "It was a tool, a toy."

"Says the man who's over one hundred and seventy years old," said Ianto. Jack pointed a finger at Ianto.

"That's a lot of sex," said Jack. "So maybe I know what I'm talking about. Do you see any obvious switches to turn it off?"

"Nope," said Ianto. "Blow it up?"

"Blow it up."

"That does seem to be a popular solution around here to dubious alien tech."

"It worked when John Hart was haunting you," Jack pointed out. Ianto rolled his eyes.

"Don't remind me or I'll still be off sex when this is over."

Martha laughed on the other end of the phone. "I miss you guys. We don't get anything nearly as exciting here."

"Job offer still stands," Jack said. "You could be drawing our blood and scanning our brains in person instead of long distance."

"I'll come visit soon!" she said. "Call me if it doesn't work, though, and I'll see what else I can come up with."

"Thanks, Martha," said Gwen. "We appreciate your help."

"Good luck," Martha said. "I hope you all get lucky soon!"

They signed off to more laughter, then turned as one to the alien disc.

"Gun range?" Ianto suggested. Jack pulled out his Webley.

"Right here is fine," he said. "Set it down and stand back."

Ianto would have normally argued about discharging firearms in the main part of the Hub, but it was testament to how much the situation had affected him that he didn't. They stood up and put the disc on the floor near the small pool surrounding the water tower, then stood back while Jack aimed his gun. He heard Jack mutter some sort of epithet under his breath, like he was cursing the disc, then six shots rang out. The first broken the disc in two, sending small sparks flying. The rest blew it into smaller and smaller pieces.

"Done," said Jack, holstering his weapon. He turned toward Ianto and Gwen. "If that doesn't stop the sonic signal, I don't know what will. How do you feel?"

Ianto frowned. He didn't feel any different, not yet. He hoped he would. The thought of never having sex again…of never even _wanting_ to have sex again was alarming. At the same time, it also felt completely normal, like sex simply wasn't a thing to do anymore. He and Jack had gone two weeks without it, after all, and had a perfectly good time together. Maybe that meant it was more than just sex and sweat and moaning one another's name in the shower. Or maybe he wanted to see Jack naked beneath him again, run his hands across Jack's broad chest and kiss those full lips before taking Jack's—

"Oooh," said Gwen, one hand flying to her mouth, the other to her belly. "That was fast."

"Whoa," said Ianto. "Yes, I think I'm feeling much better. How about you?" If his voice slipped lower into a seductive purr as he turned toward Jack, he couldn't help it. It was as if a curtain had been lifted from his mind and body, and his libido was ready to explode with the promise of freedom and release.

"I'm feeling like we all need the rest of the day off," said Jack, moving toward Ianto with a smirk that spoke volumes; he even started unbuttoning his shirt sleeves. "Starting now, before Gwen sees something she does not want to see."

"But Rhys is at work," she wailed, clearly flushed and warm. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Call him. Tell him it's an emergency," said Ianto, moving closer to Jack until they were chest to chest. "The type of emergency that we can't help you with."

"Right," she said, turning abruptly to leave. "A Torchwood emergency." She kept talking to herself and walked right past her station before she remembered to go back for her jacket and purse, and left without another word, practically running from the room as she pulled out her mobile.

"Looks like we've got the place to ourselves," Ianto said. He tossed his coat onto a nearby chair and ran his hands up and down Jack's braces. "Should we even bother to go downstairs?"

"For as long as this is going to last, yes," Jack whispered, leaning in close to his ear and teasing it with his lips, sending sparks shooting through Ianto's body. "We're going to want a bed." He kissed him hard, a wet, sloppy almost desperate kiss, before pulling back with a pop. Grinning broadly, he took Ianto's hand and practically pulled him toward the office.

"And a few other things, perhaps?" Ianto suggested, thinking of some of the more exotic toys and supplies Jack had under the bed. He couldn't believe how fast his heart was beating already, but then it had been two weeks, and he felt ready to burst from the anticipation of having sex again.

"Anything you want," Jack said as they entered his office. They started kissing again before they even reached the ladder to the room below, hands moving to undo belts and braces, Jack's shirt already unbuttoned, Ianto's tie thrown across Jack's desk. "As long as we can finish this time."

Ianto smirked against Jack's lips. "It will be quite a while before I'm finished with you," he murmured. "Two weeks, Jack. That's a lot of time to make up."

They hurried down into Jack's bunker, fumbled at the rest of their clothes with shaking, desperate hands, and fell onto the bed tangled together. They had two weeks of missed opportunities to reclaim, and Ianto fully intended to take advantage of having the afternoon off, as well as the rest of the night. He wasn't interested in cooking, in television, in sleep: he was determined to push the boundaries of pleasure as far as they could go and see if delayed gratification truly worked. The dry spell was over, and it was time to redefine the meaning of innovative and avant-garde.

* * *

Author's Note:

And then there was much smut. The End.  
Obviously a flip of the alien spores/alien tech/aliens-made-them do it sex fics. Hope you enjoyed my attempt at dry humor. Thanks for reading!


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